


Lean on Me

by unholy_this



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 11:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unholy_this/pseuds/unholy_this
Summary: Emma stays next to Killian after he has a panic attack.





	Lean on Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was inspired by an anonymous prompt I got on Tumblr, asking to show Killian having troubles after coming back from the Underworld. I was a little hesitant to write it at first because I have zero experience with dealing with a traumatized person. (I’m pretty sure that’s the same for the writers, since they seem to completely dismiss all the emotional baggage Killian would have after all of his horrible experiences, but let's not go there)
> 
> When I saw the prompt I thought about re-writing all of the episodes from 5.15 onward, by adding all the details on how Killian’s (and Emma’s, tbh) traumas would affect him and the people around him. But that would take a ton of effort and research and I’m pretty sure it would not depict the situation as realistically as I want. And I’m not willing to sit and do all that research just for a fanfic that some may rightfully find unrealistic and even offensive.
> 
> However, about a month ago I witnessed my friend's severe panic attack (she’s fine now). It happened once and it was just from accumulated job stress. And, well, it was _definitely_ not a “just breathe and let me hug you and everything will be fine” thing. She was terrified, we ran to the hospital, they gave her medicine to calm her down, she couldn’t walk, she could barely talk, she threw up three times… and that’s just the surface and what _I_ saw. Only she knows how it felt for her.
> 
> All that said, I think I can touch a little on Killian and Emma's life after he comes back and you can be the judge…

He woke up shaking and choking, with cold sweat covering his forehead and neck. It could have been a nightmare, it could have not, it didn’t really matter. It had been going on for several weeks, so Emma knew to simply take him to the hospital, to Dr. Morlock’s quiet office - she always made sure to check all the doctors’ schedules every week so that they could reach the same as often as possible - where they gave him an oxygen mask and a light sedative.

Emma thanked the doctor, relieved that once again they’d avoided the mess that had occurred the first time Killian had been rushed to the hospital with a panic attack, where by the next day everyone had known. He’d been so upset over the attack that he couldn’t even be angry at her.

This time was no different than the other, relatively “calmer” days. After he threw up once, she transported them back to their bed. He wasn’t saying anything, he was too worn out and affected by the sedative to speak. That night cold flashes were making their appearance, so Emma reached for one of the many blankets lying around and threw it over his shoulders.

Various cupboards in all rooms of the house had turned into first-aid compartments, if anything because Killian wasn’t the only one prone to panic attacks, so it wasn’t that hard to find an emergency blanket even in the middle of July. His shivering kept on even with the blanket on his shoulders that made Emma’s arms sweat wherever she touched it.

She was still alert but a yawn tried to make its way out of her mouth. She stifled it and held him close, watching as he slowly started to calm down, his rhythmic breaths forming mist on the inside of his mask. His eyes were closed and he was wearily leaning on her, the fingers of his hand slack on the second vomit bag of the night, unused by now.

She allowed herself to be reassured by the feeling of his stable heartbeat that reached her arm as it went around his back. He heaved forward once, preparing the bag with his hand but nothing happened. He sighed and leaned back on her.

The first few weeks Emma had been terrified by the way he looked after a severe attack. He always looked so small, unprotected and fragile and Emma felt too weak to help him, as if nothing she could do would help. She’d eventually fallen into a schedule, doing what she should do to help him without thinking about it much, especially when the attacks happened during the night or when they lasted for less than ten minutes.

But that time something had hit her and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She watched and watched as the mask filled with mist and cleared, she wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and rubbed his arm in an effort to make him feel warmer. He made weak, short sounds from time to time and Emma worried if any part of him hurt.

She longed to stroke his hair. Long ago he had admitted how he loved it when she did that, but after the Underworld he couldn’t stand it. One time she’d forgotten it and it triggered a flashback which he never shared. She didn’t know what had happened, she _wanted_ to know but she knew it was too hard for him. So she simply avoided it and tried to find other ways to comfort him, ones that didn’t upset him at all. Living with all his trauma was enough and she couldn’t spend more energy on flashbacks she herself triggered - those she had enough of her own.

He opened his eyes weakly, noticing the mask on his mouth.

“What happened?” he murmured.

“Panic attack. I found Dr. Morlock and he gave you some sedative. Does anything hurt?”

“My head… a little.”

She had to fight the instinct to reach out and rub soft circles on his scalp with her fingers.

“You okay?” he said.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m cold.” The shivering in his voice emphasized his words.

“I know,” she said and rubbed a little faster. “It’s cold flashes this time. They will pass soon.”

She knew that his continual drinking was contributing to some of the symptoms - but then, alcohol abuse was a symptom on its own. And she wasn’t always holding back from the stuff, either. Despite their mutual agreement to keep on with therapy sessions and try to eat and sleep as healthily as possible, this one they were having a hard time refraining from, especially Killian.

“Just a little more. Does your chest hurt?”

It took him some time to answer. “Not anymore.”

“Good. Tell me if there’s something else, okay?”

Emma was thanking her now lucky stars that her family was helping. Her mother was overwhelming at times but still they all provided support for everything. By now everyone knew how to treat a flashback or a panic attack, even Henry. Both Killian and Emma were feeling terribly guilty this was the case, but when their minds were being attacked they literally had no other choice but to let him help them. They’d never admitted it to each other, but they knew.

If it weren’t for them she didn’t know if she could handle it. Killian’s case was undoubtedly worse than hers, but still there were times she felt so helpless to do anything for herself, let alone the man she loved. It all terrified her and turned into a vicious circle of panic that she sometimes felt she would never get over.

And Killian at first had been depending on her only. It had taken some convincing and some understanding - by the both of them - for him to start trusting her family. It was great he already had established a trust with her father - though it was all a “catch me when I fall” kind of trust. He very seldom talked about his pain and his flashbacks, as did she. They were trusting each other and when things got too much they had to open their trust to others.

She sighed. Panic attacks were only part of a very big problem for both of them.

“I wanna lie down,” he said softly.

“Do you mind keeping the mask? It may be a little early to take it off.”

“Okay.”

She helped him lie on his side. She’d found that way it was easier for him to assume a fetal position when he needed to and also reassured her he wouldn’t choke if he vomited.

It also helped him when she held him close from behind, he’d admitted once.

Sometimes it scared her, how rarely they admitted to each other about what things helped. But that was how things were. They knew it was going to be hard and there were going to be days they would believe they couldn’t handle anything. They would just have to keep on somehow.

She allowed a tear for her morbid thoughts, then lay down next to him and brought her arm around him. He took her hand in his and softly pushed it against his chest right above where his heart was beating steadily.


End file.
